


The Date: Time Stamp

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short One Shot, time stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: A one shot for the story I wrote The DateYou should read that first, if you haven't already
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	The Date: Time Stamp

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430838) by [Neuropsyche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche). 



It was a small crowd that was gathered around the bed, all wearing that same odd look that people got on their faces when they were worried (or scared) but trying very hard not to let it show, and were instead trying to look completely confident, or certain. Tony Stark appreciated it, even though he was wearing that same expression as he looked up at the faces of his closest friends.

“I still think _Peter_ should be the one to do this…” Rhodey muttered, looking down at his friend. “He’s the most qualified.”

It wasn't the first time that comment had come up since Stark had decided (with a lot of consultations) that it was time to take care of the problem of the shrapnel in his heart so he could live without the fear of something catastrophic happening. Not by a long shot.

“If I was _ten_ , he’d be the most qualified,” Tony agreed. “But you guys all know that his specialty is little kids.”

“He’s still planning on being with you, though, right?” Pepper asked.

“I _am_ ,” Peter said, having walked through the door of the little room in time to hear the question. They all looked over, and unlike the rest of them, Peter looked confident and unconcerned as he walked over to the bed Tony was in. “I’ll be here when they put him under and move him, and will be there when he wakes up in recovery.”

He was already wearing scrubs, but they were his normal outfit most days, anyway. The young heart surgeon stepped up between Natasha and Steve, well past the stage where he would have made excited noises, or asked for autographs or pictures. Tony had introduced him to all of the Avengers early on in their relationship, and Peter knew them all well, now. Well enough that he slapped Rogers on the shoulder, trying to make him lose that worried look.

It didn’t exactly _work_ , but they all looked a little less ready to throw up, Tony decided.

“How long will it take?” Pepper asked. “What did the latest scans show?”

“Same as before,” Peter told her – and the others. “The fragments are right where they’re supposed to be, and that will cut down on any exploratory time. In and out, and we’ll have him better than ever in about six hours.”

“See?” Tony said. He was trying to look confident, too, but couldn’t match Peter’s level of calm. Of course, he was the one being operated on, wasn’t he? Not to mention, he didn’t have a million hours of bedside manner training under his belt like Peter did. Doctors were supposed to look calm and confident, after all. Everyone knew that. “It’s going to be fine.”

“We know,” Rhodey still sounded – and _looked_ – worried, but that was natural. “Well be here when you wake up, too.”

“They’ll be in the waiting room down the hall,” Peter corrected. “Eating carrot sticks and drinking ginger ale.”

Tony looked at Pepper.

“The papers are all signed,” he reminded her. “If anything happens…”

“I know.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Nothing’s going to happen, though. Right, Peter?”

“Right.” He fiddled with the IV that had been attached to his lover’s arm. “Everyone say your goodbyes, alright? We need to get this show on the road.”

The young man stood back, watching as the Avengers all did as they were told, each of them reminding Tony that they would be there when he was done. He shook a few hands, accepted a kiss or two, and promised them all that he was fine. When the door closed behind Nick Fury, a nurse arriving to guide them down the hall to the waiting room, Peter smiled and settled on the edge of Tony’s bed.

“How do you feel?”

“A little nervous.”

“That’s understandable, of course.”

“My balls itch….” He added with a slight scowl. Not something he could have complained about in mixed company, but definitely something to share with his doctor slash husband. “I mean, I get that they had to shave my chest and upper body…” Everyone knew that. “But why everywhere else?”

A couple of nurses walked into the room, then, and these were part of the surgical staff. Peter got to his feet, stopping only long enough to press a very loving kiss against Tony’s cheek – which _hadn’t_ been shaved for his surgery.

“They didn’t _have_ to,” the young man admitted. “I asked them to – just to see what it would look like.”

The comment made Tony smile, and suddenly he wasn’t nervous, at all. Wasn’t scared, and wasn’t even a little concerned. Peter was going to be with him, and nothing would happen. The surgery would be a success, and Tony could get rid of the arc reactor. Not that he _would_ , of course. The thing wouldn’t be implanted inside his chest any longer, but it would still be an integral part of the design of his Ironman suits – especially the one that was already completed and was just waiting for the surgery to be completed, and Tony to be done with his recovery.

“You’re a little shit, sometimes,” he said, taking Peter’s hand as the nurse started injecting drugs into the IV.

“I think you’ve mentioned that, before,” the young man agreed, making the nurses smile, too. “Better be nice, though,” he added. “Otherwise, we’re going to take pictures while you’re under and leak them to the internet.”

This time the nurse snorted, amused and not hiding it.

“There are probably plenty of pictures already out there.”

But none from recent times.

Tony was settled, now. He and Peter were married and had been for two years, and he’d never been happier. Their new house – which was a modern wonder of technology and hominess – was his retreat, now. Not a bottle. Not wild parties and one-night stands. All he really needed was the perfect guy to come home to, to love him, cherish him, and keep him grounded and centered. And he’d finally found all of that.

Waiting tables in a club, of all things.

Another gentle kiss and a look of love that couldn’t be feigned.

“Go to sleep, Tony,” he said, as Stark felt a calming lassitude wash over him – no doubt a product of the sedatives that they were administering to get him ready to be moved to the operating room.

“You’ll stay?” he asked, sleepily, unwilling to let go of the hand that he was holding.

“You know I will.”

He closed his eyes, feeling that hand squeeze his even as he did.

He _did_ know.

OOOOOOOOO

The waiting room had a TV, and magazines, books, and refreshments of all kinds. None of the people sitting in the comfortable leather furnishings were reading, or watching the display. They did have a few phones or tablets out, quietly going through whatever information that they needed to keep track of (especially Pepper Potts, and Nick Fury) but all of those electronics were turned off, immediately, when the door suddenly opened, and Peter walked in.

All eyes went to his face, knowing that his expression would tell them everything that they needed to know long before they opened their mouths to ask how things had went, and those that could read him best felt relieved, immediately. Peter was relaxed, and calm, and almost cheerful.

“You’re done?” Steve asked.

“Yes. He’s being moved to recovery, now.”

“How did he do?”

“It went exactly as planned. There was a little bit of scar tissue, but we knew it was there and we worked around it, using it to rebuild some of the structure that was needed. His body will replace it as it heals from the surgery and it’s going to be perfect.”

“Nothing wrong with his heart?” Fury asked, knowing that had been a concern going in.

“No. It really looks good, guys. You won’t be able to see him, today, but only because we don’t want a lot of people in the recovery room with the other patients there, as well. He’ll be there until he’s awake and the surgeons decide that he’s stable, and then they’ll move him to his room. Visiting hours start at 7am.”

“You’re going to stay with him, though, right?” Pepper asked.

“I will.” Peter smiled. “He’s fine, guys. Really. He’ll need to stay in bed for a while, but a few weeks from now, and he’ll be up and around and driving everyone crazy, again.”

“That’s a relief.”

OOOOOOOO

When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t completely sure where he was. For a moment, he wasn’t even certain _who_ he was. He stared up at the white ceiling, and listened to the muffled sounds around him as his mind woke, too, and he remembered where he was, and what had happened.

“Are you awake…?”

Tony turned his head and saw Peter sitting in a chair beside the bed that he was in. An uncomfortable bed – especially compared to the one they had in their room at the house – but padded with a dozen pillows and blankets that were nicely warmed.

He managed a smile.

“Yeah. I think so. How’d it go?”

Peter leaned forward, resting his hand on Tony’s forearm.

“It went great, baby.”

“It’s out?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” He was quiet for a moment. “It doesn’t feel any different.”

“I’m not surprised. You probably can’t feel much of anything, right now.”

“Everything _else_ is still there, though, right?”

Peter smiled. Maybe he wasn’t quite as awake as he thought he was?

“They kept the rest of the important things inside you, yes. All of the shrapnel is out, though, and so is the arc reactor.”

“How about that…”

“How do you feel?”

Tony reached for his hand, and Peter gave it to him.

“Numb.”

“Yeah. You will be for a while. It’ll pass in a while. We’ll keep you in this bed until you’re a little more awake.”

“Then I go home?”

“Then you get into a hospital room.”

Peter knew that Tony knew the plan – it had been explained several times, of course – it was just another indication that he hadn’t completely burned through the medications, yet.

“Oh.”

He smiled, and leaned over to brush a kiss against the older man’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, Tony,” Peter told him. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He smiled, too, feeling a little sleepy and wondering how he could be tired when he just woke up. “Kiss me, again.”

He did, and Tony turned his head to catch Peter’s lips, instead, but the kiss was short – although definitely sweet.

“Don’t go crazy, now,” Peter cautioned, pulling back. “We don’t want you doing anything to raise your blood pressure if we can avoid it. Not for a few days, at least.”

“Ugh.”

The young surgeon smiled, amused and relieved, and he reclaimed his chair.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty to do to keep yourself occupied. Everyone will want to come check on you, and your tablet will be in the hospital room so you can talk to FRIDAY when you want to.”

“I love you, Peter…”

A brush of the hand against his arm, again.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The End!  
> Thanks for reading, guys.


End file.
